Please Forgive Me
Cecilia, asked by Cheon Hwi, had agreed to teach them. The disciples, meanwhile, were gossiping among themselves.
"You really think Cheon Hwi's going to bring the Saintess?"
"No way."
That was Hyeon and Seol's shared conclusion, and it was not a question worth asking in the first place. Teaching someone who had been threatened with death, and doing it out of goodwill? Be serious. That went past kindness and straight into doormat territory. No one would have blinked to hear her called a pushover.
And yet, watching Cheon Hwi do the very thing all of them had deemed impossible, a new question surfaced.
"More than that, Seol. Why is Cheon Hwi raising us this hard?"
The moment they met, they trained, and when training ended they were so exhausted they blacked out. There had never been a gap in which to ask. Turned over in the mind, the existence known as Cheon Hwi was far too strange. From their very first meeting he had called them by name, as if he had always known them. He did not treat the other students as disciples. Only them. Let someone else claim to be a senior and he went along meekly enough, but the moment they told him to call them senior, he had a fit. He barely understood the academy, let alone magic. The more one thought about it, the more oddities piled up.
"Why on earth does Cheon Hwi act like that?"
Hyeon gave voice to her doubts about him.
"Because he's insane."
Seol offered her own answer.
"Huh...? That actually tracks?"
Hyeon found herself agreeing.
Even conduct that flew in the face of all common sense became perfectly acceptable to every disciple the moment someone added because it's Cheon Hwi. That alone said everything about the man's behavior.
"Still, I like that we're getting stronger."
"That part's true."
It was certainly helping. He had created an entirely new concept, the dantian, and used it to make them strong. Constant sparring had given them real combat experience they were confident would not lose to anyone.
"We've gotten stronger. Our bodies, and our swordsmanship."
"So much it still doesn't feel familiar..."
They were all right now, but when the dantian first formed they could hardly control their own bodies. Sword qi would gather on a pair of chopsticks without warning. They would reach to open a door and break it instead. Truly grueling days.
"And he hits us so it doesn't hurt."
At the very beginning, the pain of a blow lingered for days. From some point on, he struck so the pain existed only in the instant of impact and then evaporated. That consideration, however, existed for one reason: so he could hit them more. The disciples could do nothing but cry.
Crying out of consideration. In a sense, weren't these the truest tears of joy?
What kind of nonsense is that!
They had taken so many beatings from Cheon Hwi that at some point it felt like brainwashing.
"Is this Stockholm syndrome?"
"What's that."
"Ah. It's when you start to identify with the criminal who..."
Huh?
Had that voice just dropped? It hadn't sounded like a woman. It had sounded like a man—and a very familiar lunatic's voice, at that.
No. It can't be.
Clinging to hope, she turned. In that instant—
Bang.
The training hall door slammed open.
"My disciples are having quite the interesting conversation today."
Familiar. Far too familiar. A voice that, merely by being heard, threw every muscle in the body into reflexive tension. And drawing nearer beneath it, a madness wearing a smile more demonic than any demon.
Cheon Hwi.
"Since when were you listening...?"
Hyeon asked, her voice trembling thin.
"Yes. Since when, indeed?"
Cheon Hwi came on at an unhurried pace. With every step, the blood visibly drained from his disciples' faces.
"From around the moment someone said 'Stockholm syndrome'?"
"..."
"Yes. I raised my disciples with such care, afraid a breath might blow them away and a touch might break them, and the thanks I receive is to be called a criminal."
Slowly, slowly, he lifted his hand. It was an ordinary motion, and yet their bodies froze like ice.
"...That's—"
The moment Hyeon opened her mouth, scrambling for an excuse that might let her live—
"...I don't think that. I'm glad we got stronger."
Seol cut in first and asserted her own innocence. The face she wore in the middle of that betrayal was sincerely, spotlessly blameless.
Wow...
People said that when you were truly flustered, the words simply would not come. Hyeon understood that feeling with painful clarity.
"Th-that's... hahaha. Obviously a joke. I'm always grateful!"
But this was no time to freeze. Hyeon excused herself with everything she had. Right—as if she could sincerely hate Cheon Hwi. She had only called him a criminal with her mouth. If he had actually behaved like one, then stronger or not, she would have left his side. No. Before she could leave, she would already have been expelled from the academy, and they would never have met at all.
"It was a jest. Why so frightened?"
Cheon Hwi knew as much himself, and so he did not press them. He laughed, and let it pass.
"More importantly. Do you remember what I said yesterday?"
"That insane request, asking the Saintess to tutor us?"
"Hehe. An insane request? How amusing."
They had been certain it was impossible. Then a clear, orderly voice rang suddenly through the training hall, and every gaze snapped toward the door.
Pure white sacerdotal vestments. Platinum-blonde hair aglow with a faint light. And a sacred aura pouring from those eyes.
Cecilia.
"Oh?"
Cheon Hwi lifted one brow.
"You came."
"It was your request. Helping to the extent of teaching is something I can do."
Disbelief flooded the disciples' faces.
"You actually brought her!?"
"Saintess, are you sick?"
Even expressionless Seol was worrying over Cecilia. That alone showed how absurd this was.
At those words Cecilia's eyes narrowed. Then she spoke, quietly.
"Please don't worry. Lord Cheon Hwi did nothing more than ask. I am the one who accepted. There was no threat of any kind, so you may rest easy."
"R-right. Yes."
Yes. If the Saintess said so, then it must be so. Digging any deeper would be a burden not only on Cheon Hwi, but on the Saintess herself. With that thought, the disciples bowed their heads.
Cecilia looked down at them in silence, then turned her gaze back to Cheon Hwi.
"I'll ask once more. What is the goal?"
"First place."
"...Please say something realistic."
Cecilia let out a small sigh and asked again.
"...All of them within the top three thousand. No lower than that."
Cheon Hwi would concede nothing further. Fortunately, the Saintess accepted it.
"That much should be possible. You heard, everyone. Shall we work hard?"
"...The Saintess is scary."
Seol muttered it under her breath. The woman was clearly someone shaped out of vigor and benevolence itself, so why was she this frightening?
"...I'll pray to a god."
Hyeon prayed to a god she did not even believe in, hoping she might live.
"Pray all you like. The one standing in front of you is the Saintess."
At Seol's words she gave up on prayer and began to study.
"First, I'll ask something basic. What is a Steel Wolf, a Grade Seven monster?"
"Something a sword cuts."
An answer worthy of Seol, ranked seven thousandth in the entire academy.
"...And?"
"Isn't knowing this much enough?"
"Miss Seol. Shall we step over there?"
"Huh?"
"So. What did you say a Steel Wolf was?"
"The ones with thick fur."
"And?"
"Um, their natural enemy is the Grade Seven flying species, the Carrion-Poison Eagle..."
"No. The Steel Wolf only."
"A sword cuts them fine, but the fur's so thick it never reaches the skin?"
"Now then. Shall we try again?"
"Huh?"
A harsher trial than that was only beginning.
"Saintess—no, Cecilia. It won't go in. None of it goes in..."
Seol kept trying to persuade her, pleading her grades, pleading her intelligence. It did not work on the Saintess.
"It's all right. I'll teach you again as many times as it takes."
"A Steel Wolf is a monster species that literally has fur like iron so a sword does not cut it easily and the older it gets the harder the fur becomes until it is difficult to catch and it can grow as strong as Grade Five at most and the moment it reaches Grade Five it leaves its main habitat of abandoned mines and mountain ranges."
Hyeon and Cheon Hwi stared at the muttering Seol, souls half-gone, fear in their eyes. Even the Cheon Hwi of his previous life could count on one hand the times he had heard Seol speak politely—this life, needless to say, even fewer—and yet Cecilia was receiving that polite speech from Seol now.
"The way to catch a Steel Wolf is to burn the iron-like fur with fire or damage the inside with a force like lightning or cut the places the fur does not cover such as the eyes and the nose with a weapon like a sword or a bow and the hunters who catch Steel Wolves are largely divided into mages and spirit practitioners and mages burn the fur while spirit practitioners hunt by striking weak points such as the eyes."
Saintess, what in the world did you stuff into Seol's head?
"Setting those methods aside there is also a way to catch them with holy power but that does not apply to most people so I will tell you about that later."
"Miss Seol. There is no need to memorize every word I said."
She had not been speaking politely at all. She had memorized Cecilia's words in their entirety.
"A Steel Wolf that has climbed to Grade Five raids the villages where humans live and kills innocent citizens and is a cruel demonic beast so it must be killed the instant it is seen and doing so helps Goddess Arciel govern the world."
"Mm... too much of my own feeling slipped into that. Exams ask only for objective fact, so shall we try once more?"
They went through several more rounds of question and answer. Only when Seol finally, barely, produced the answer Cecilia wanted was she set free.
Um, Saintess? Seol's eyes have glazed over. No—past glazed. The black of her eyes is fading, and she looks ready to go see the Goddess any second now...?!
"What's the matter, Miss Hyeon?"
"Ah, it's nothing. Please forgive me."
"Hehe. What did I even do.... You needn't be so afraid. You do seem to keep staring at that one part, though. Is it difficult to understand?"
Hyeon looked back and forth between the book the Saintess had given her—a meticulous unpacking of the Insect King textbook—and Cecilia's benevolent expression, then shook her head in a frenzy. One word here about not understanding, and she might end up in the same state as Seol. No. She would.
"I was savoring it! The more I read, the more I understood the Saintess's knowledge!"
"Hehe. Miss Seol absorbed the knowledge quickly, and so have you, Miss Hyeon. I truly envy Lord Cheon Hwi, having such outstanding people beneath him."
"Ha. Haha. Hahaha..."
Hyeon seriously wondered whether she ought to go back and beat to death—if that was what it took to stop her—the past self who had thoughtlessly said she wanted to learn from the Saintess.
"Are exams normally this miserable to prepare for?"
It was Cheon Hwi who said it. Hyeon claimed she had dreamed of tearing her notes apart and eating them. Seol, who could fairly be called the greatest victim, had reached the point of trembling at the mere sight of the Saintess's face.
"If you had kept up ordinarily, there would be no need to go this far. With no foundation, I think I may have pushed a little too hard."
A little?
If that was a little, then what, exactly, was a lot?
Cheon Hwi, who had not even feared battle with the Heavenly Demon, felt fear toward Cecilia alone.
The day of the exam.
Rain had fallen through the night, and the ground was soft and damp. The disciples stepped into the examination hall in neatly pressed uniforms.
"This exam is a combined evaluation of every year."
At the proctor's words, the disciples looked at one another with tense faces. Cecilia watched them, quietly reciting a prayer. Into that quiet, Cheon Hwi spoke.
"They won't fail, will they?"
"Don't worry. Do exactly as you were taught, and you absolutely will not fail."
"Really?"
"I don't tell lies. And even if you fail, there is one chance at a retest. You can simply study again then and pass, can't you?"
Cecilia had meant it as nothing more than encouragement. To the disciples, it was a threat without equal.
Just how effective that threat had been, they would learn later.